


Regularly Scheduled Break

by LadyNightbird



Category: Battleborn (Video Game)
Genre: Dates, Established Relationship, F/F, beatrix is a cheeky little shit and phoebe is overworked
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-07 20:26:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16415378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyNightbird/pseuds/LadyNightbird
Summary: LLC policy does not allow for breaks for ice cream when you're the heir to the Hemsworth fortune and swamped by paperwork. Beatrix, however, is undeterred by rules.





	Regularly Scheduled Break

Phoebe would have disregarded the knock on the door under different circumstances. Her daily paperwork-doing schedule had taken a hit what with the Battleborns’ efforts to reorganize in a post-Rendain Solus, and while she desperately wished she had an excuse to do more fieldwork, the LLC had to be managed too. Damn Ghalt for not giving her the assignment to wipe out splinter cell Rendain supporters… Pendles had gotten that job. Phoebe sighed. Much as she hated to admit it, the snake was quieter and better at subtlety. Teleporters she may have, but she also had a flair for the dramatic to go with them.

Another knock, more insistent. Oh, she had gotten distracted by her thoughts. And that was Beatrix’s very distinct pattern of knocking, less a proper  _ knock _ and more a skittering, spidery tapping of her long metal nails. “I’m busy, Beatrix!” Phoebe called from her desk. She tapped her pen restlessly against the ship expense report before her. “Marquis can help you if you really need something.”

“Marquis is… preoccupied.” Beatrix’s voice was too rough to be called silken, distorted as it was by her modified voicebox. She had claimed before to have replaced it herself, while she was still awake. It gave her voice a perpetual low, sinister pitch that twined in with what must have been her original one, that high singsong. She dragged her nails audibly down the reinforced door again. “Let me in, dearest~”

Phoebe sighed. “What did you do to Marquis? I told him to guard the door.”

“Oh, nothing much.” A playful giggle, shadowed by the robotic whine characteristic of her voice. “He’ll be fine! There was just a bit of a disturbance in Dock 3.”

“Beatrix, do I  _ dare  _ look at the security cameras?” Phoebe raised her brows, closing her eyes exasperatedly. A dull ache had started behind her temples. “If someone dies, I expect you to do the incident reports. I’ve enough to do as it is.”

“They’re mostly non-lethal. ‘ _ They’  _ being. Nothing. Of course. I have nothing to do with it!.” Phoebe could almost hear the baring of teeth in a smile. “So, let me in?”

“You won’t go away if I don’t.” Phoebe sighed, and pressed the button underneath her desk. The reinforced door’s lock (emblazoned with her insignia, the LLC’s shooting star overlaid by her signature five blades) rotated to unlock, then slid aside, and the door lifted with a quiet hiss. 

It took some getting used to Beatrix’s appearance. Most of the workers on the Hemsworth Guildship- and indeed, on every LLC ship in the fleet- still startled when she was nearby. With Rendain out of the way there had been time for her to update her prosthetics; she had taken a few too many nasty hits from a Varelsi extermination mission on Bliss, and a particularly powerful specimen had ripped clean through the fine metal of her modifications. Though Beatrix had accepted Phoebe’s help in designing her new prosthetics, she had certainly not allowed for LLC doctors to work on her. Not without her being awake, fully conscious of the pain, and directing the surgery from the table herself. She was taller now, perhaps more like the adult Jennerit she would have looked like had she not been Sustained 700 years prior. Still smaller than Ambra, delicate and spindly looking, but, and she was very proud of this, just a  _ touch  _ taller than Phoebe. She had rejected Phoebe’s design choices and largely remade her old prosthetics of dark metal in Jennerit fashion, with only a few concessions to lighten their weight and enhance her already impressive nimbleness. She looked older. Well, as old as a Sustained Jennerit could look. Which wasn’t much.

“Couldn’t stay away, could you?” Phoebe turned her attention back to her paperwork in the vain hope that Beatrix would be satisfied just with being granted entry. “I’m terribly busy.”

Beatrix gave a low croon of something like sympathy, striding in, sitting on the edge of Phoebe’s desk (dangerously, alarmingly close to her stack of Minion Robotics patents.) Her fingers were cold, sharp-tipped by her nails when they met Phoebe’s jaw, tracing that line down toward her chin, tilting it upwards. “You work so hard, princess. Why not take a break?” Her lone red eye gleamed with mischief. Not unusual for her.

Phoebe had to remind herself not to get distracted. Beatrix was taking up far too much of her field of vision to ignore, that gaudy wing shivery with barely contained excitement, the hand on her jaw now stroking her cheek with the thumb. “I can’t. You know this is my job.”

“Hmm.” It sounded almost like a growl coming from Beatrix, and her eye narrowed just a touch. “I’m bored.”

“I’m certain you are.” Phoebe signed another paper. A proposition for upgrades to the Wolf sentry design. Approved. “The Guildship doesn’t have much in the way of interesting pastimes for you.” The hand at her cheek slipped away. She almost preferred it there when the alternative was Beatrix examining her papers instead.

“This is beneath you,” Beatrix said, looking over the page with a skeptical frown. “They really make you do this? Don’t you have a secretary or something?”

“I don’t trust anyone else to do this job. If they made mistakes it would fall on me.”

Beatrix  _ tsk _ ed, and flicked the paper to the floor. “Stupid.”

Phoebe closed her eyes, counted to ten, and relented. “Okay. What do  _ you _ want to do?”

Beatrix immediately perked up. “Well I’m glad you asked! Are you aware that the ship flying starboard of us has a shopping centre?” She slipped off the edge of Phoebe’s desk, standing and instead resting her hands on the polished wooden surface, leaning over it so her face was all Phoebe could focus on. “And that this shopping centre has ice cream?”

“You… Beatrix! You interrupted my work… for ice cream?” Phoebe’s mouth hung agape. “And you really expect me to hop on my personal fighter with you, dock with this commercial ship, and go out for ice cream we could have delivered here?”

“Yeah.” Beatrix smiled, all long fangs. “You’re bored, aren’t you? It’s my treat.”

They stared each other down for a long moment. At last, Phoebe set down her pen. “I suppose I’m due for a break. Get my keycard. You infuriating inconvenience.”

Beatrix giggled discordantly, prancing off to the adjacent room. “I love you too~!” 

  
  


It was a short walk down to the private dock that held Phoebe’s fighter ship, a sleek marvel of modern design she used primarily for transport to and from Nova, and in between ships of the LLC fleet. In addition to being a natural with the blade, she was also a practiced pilot without AI assistance, though that of course came standard on LLC ships. Perhaps to be a nuisance, Beatrix  _ insisted  _ on walking hand in hand. That never failed to draw stares from the workers and occupants of the guildship. Not only was Beatrix a frightening individual, but seeing Phoebe Hemsworth holding hands with someone was something indeed. She’d never been known for public displays of affection. But Beatrix seemed to take it as a point of pride, grinning with all her sharp teeth and her eye alight with amusement at the confusion and bewilderment of those who saw them.

From there it was just a matter of strapping in to the pilots’ seats of Phoebe’s fighter, reminding Beatrix not to pick at the leather with her frighteningly sharp nails, and jetting out into the vast blackness of space. “I keep forgetting,” Phoebe murmured. “The stars.” She brought the ship up in a spiral around the guildship, and once they cleared the radiating light of the fleet, they were left gazing into nothingness, darker than they could imagine. Where once there had been millions, billions of stars in swathes of glittering points, now there was nothing. Just the shadow of Varelsi space. Entire planets, peoples, cultures. Unfathomable.

Beatrix regarded it quietly, her chin resting in one hand. “You know as well as I that there may be a way to rebuild. If the stars were dragged into the void, maybe we can drag them back out.”

“Perhaps.” There seemed so little that could be said when faced with all the life of the known universe, gone. “We’ve so much work to do. Perhaps I  _ should _ hire a secretary.” She shared a laugh with Beatrix at the silly little thought. “This makes filing patents look so pointless.”

Beatrix grinned sidelong at her. “Perhaps there’s time for some more research after our little outing. Before you get back to your boring job.”

“We’ll see.” Phoebe brought her ship back around, turning its tail to the dark and diving back between the shining crafts of the arcfleet. The fleet was a world of its own, one of gold and ivory and glittering light, opulence unmatched by the remaining universe. It passed in a shining blur around her, but her reflexes were keen enough that she handled her ship with ease. She wasn’t all organic either- the red of her eyes came not from genetics but from implanted cybernetics. She was more intact than Beatrix in terms of requiring prosthesis, but she was designed fluidly as a weapon. Her whole nervous system was linked up with the telekinetic technology of her swords, her senses enhanced. No unaugmented human could maneuver the arcfleet’s narrow corridors between the larger ships without AI autopilot.

Docking with the neighboring ship took only a minute, what with the presiding AI recognizing Phoebe’s fighter. It was quick to direct her to the first open hangar, ready with robotic assistants to secure the craft and resupply the huge room with air. “Welcome, Miss Hemsworth,” the AI greeted her over the loudspeaker. “Please enjoy your visit.” 

“I take it you know where the ice cream is then?” Phoebe asked, glancing at Beatrix as they walked. “I don’t visit this ship often.”

Beatrix sidled up alongside her, slipping her hand into Phoebe’s again. She possessively laced their fingers together, cold metal against skin. “There’s a whole district for food. You really don’t get out much, do you?”

“You’ve seen my workload. I just have meals delivered. I never have time.” This commercial ship was much more populated than the Hemsworth Guildship. There were countless civilians wandering the shops, more species than could be represented by Solus in its current state. In the wake of the Varelsi disaster, evacuees had ended up scattered. Many had been drawn to the planet-sized arcfleet for work and shelter. The fleet had thus ended up as far more of a menagerie of peoples from all over the universe than had ever been expected. It worked in the LLC’s favor- an influx of workers drove the capitalist machine ever onwards, and even in the darkening universe profits mattered. Providing a bastion of safety for the refugee people caused by crisis was an added benefit. Commercial craft tended to be small by comparison to the city-sized arcships, and shuttles between them brought workers to and from their jobs regularly. This craft was built in the same opulent way as the rest, polished white and trimmed in gold, clean and spacious, busy though it was. Beatrix looked incredibly out of place against it. Jennerit weren’t too common on LLC ships, much less highly augmented, very unsettling Sustained known for her work in genetics and plagues. Mostly the plagues. 

“Over here.” Beatrix pulled Phoebe across the wide corridor toward a colorful shopfront. Just the smell alone was sugary-sweet, richly wafting out the doorway with the scent of chocolate. Of course Beatrix would be drawn to it, with as much of a sweet tooth as she had. “One thing. If the guy behind the counter starts saying something about company policy, you tell him to let me do it.” Phoebe didn’t have enough time to ask what exactly Beatrix was going to do, before Beatrix skipped up to the counter and gave the unfortunate teen behind it a very unsettling grin. “I’ll need your  _ biggest  _ ice cream, please.”

“That’s the… the, uh…” The clerk glanced from Beatrix looming over him to the menu board behind him. “Is the three scoops okay?”

“Hmm, no.” Beatrix tapped a nail on the counter, thoughtfully eyeing the board. “We should make it… what do you say Phoebe? Double that to start, at least.”

Phoebe winced, suddenly wishing she was back with her paperwork. This could only go one way. Beatrix was notorious for eating entire gallons of ice cream at a time. Where did it all go? It was a scientific mystery. “Please. It’s easier if you just let her do it,” she begged the very confused and nervous looking clerk. “Just keep a tab and she’ll pay it.”

“Of course.” Beatrix flashed her a triumphant grin. “And what will you have, Miss Hemsworth?” She brandished that name like her ultimate ice cream-winning weapon. Apparently influence in business meant influence in all spheres.

Phoebe sighed. If you can’t beat them… “Just order me something, please.” It was likely the wrong thing to say. Beatrix took a very keen eye to the list of flavors, which was really rather expansive seeing as it was a specialty shop. By the time she was satisfied with her choices she’d picked a varying palette of flavors and racked up quite the bill. But she was pleased, and she finally left the poor clerk alone, picking up her bowl and Phoebe’s and taking them to a nearby table.

“I can’t take you anywhere,” Phoebe griped without any real fire. “Did you intend to scare the poor thing to death?”

“Hm?” Beatrix glanced up from her ice cream. She took a thoughtful bite of some bright blue flavor, chuckling. “Oh, him? We got what we wanted, no death necessary!”

“You got what  _ you  _ wanted.” Phoebe rolled her eyes, and inspected her own bowl. “This is chocolate, right?”

“Yeah, but like three different kinds. I only picked this place because they’ve got old recipes from planets that are in the void now. They recreate them here. And I know you like chocolate.” It was unexpectedly thoughtful, and Phoebe was momentarily surprised by how she actually was quite interested in that prospect. Hadn’t she only just lamented the loss of so much to the Varelsi? How fitting, then.

“ _ But,  _ if you still feel like you’ve been shorted, I can offer this.” Beatrix grinned, wound a slender hand into Phoebe’s ruffled cravat, and leaned over the table to kiss her. She tasted sweet, faintly of some obscure fruit Phoebe hadn’t caught the name of. It was far too hard to pull away. “Care to take the rest of the evening off? I do believe we have a backlog of fun experiments on void science to play with.”

“Paperwork, or ripping apart Varelsi in a variety of interesting ways…” Phoebe flashed her a grin. “I have a new particle saw.”

“ _ Brilliant. _ ”


End file.
